


As the Face of a Friend

by TiamatsChild



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiamatsChild/pseuds/TiamatsChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fantine, running for the stairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Face of a Friend

The foreman tripped.

Fantine felt his hand brush at her hip, heard the thump and crack of him falling to his knees on the stair, heard the intake of breath that might have been him or might have been the other workers in the shop. She registered these things only at a distance. Her whole mind was occupied with moving as fast as she could, with shouting as loud as she could. It had always been her last defense. Sometimes there was a safe place. Sometimes someone would help.

More generally they wouldn't, but this was Monsieur Madeleine. Hadn't he looked at her just now as if he saw _her_ , not just an object of pity, or a problem for discipline, or a warm body that wouldn't ask too much? Her running had a destination. Surely that mattered. Surely that did.

“M'sieur le Maire!” 

The door barely needed a hand on the latch and she was through. She caught herself on the outside rail, leaning on it for an instant and there he was, turning to look up at her, his mouth soft with surprise. 

The Foreman must be behind her – she couldn't stop to see how his face changed. “M'sieur le Maire!” She was whirling, shoving herself off from the rail, using the momentum to fling herself down the steps, quick small steps so your feet flashed out under your skirt. That was better, that was faster, than bounding or leaping like a clumsy great fool who had never learned anything. “M'sieur le Maire, please! M'sieur le Maire, M'sieur Madeleine!”

She never lost her footing, but she was going too fast to stop. Monsieur Madeleine was coming to her, moving to her, and for the first time she noticed the police in the courtyard. Police on horses. Fantine hated police, she despised them, police were no good, they could hurt you and no one would care, and they knew it. The new jolt of fear lengthened her stride, forced her to breathe deeper, propelled her forward.

She ran to Monsieur Madeleine.

He caught her.

But he did not catch her to restrain her. He steadied her, put her back on her feet again, and gave her that concerned, quizzical, surprised look she'd glimpsed from the top of the stair. He kept his hands on her shoulders, but they weren't holding her. She could move away. But his big hands were so warm through the cotton of her her dress and her chemise, and his eyes were so clear that she had to blink rapidly, had to swallow to take her voice back. 

“Please,” she said, “Please. I have a child.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #fantinefixit, a Fantine centric fic fest on tumblr.


End file.
